


It Takes an Ocean Not to Break

by YuriPirozhki



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Endgame Otayuri, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post canon, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, except not really, otayuri big bang 2018, yuri is Bad at Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 12:14:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16872714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YuriPirozhki/pseuds/YuriPirozhki
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky is entering his first Olympic skating season. With a World Championship under his belt, and the end of his growth spurt in sight, this should be the best year of his life so far. He would've appreciated a heads up that it was all going to go to shit.In the two and a half years since meeting Otabek Altin, he's become one of the most important people in Yuri's life. It's only when Otabek reveals that he's been seeing someone, that Yuri realises love has been staring him in the face this whole time. It's just a shame that it's too late to do anything about it.Now Yuri has to deal with his inconvenient feelings, all whilst trying to prepare for the most important competition of his life, and doing his utmost to make sure Otabek never finds out. It's not going to be an easy ride.





	It Takes an Ocean Not to Break

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [louciferish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/louciferish/pseuds/louciferish) for betaing, and [Ziel](https://rionakamura.tumblr.com) for the artwork.
> 
> It's been so much fun participating in the Otayuri Big Bang, and I hope you enjoy the story!

Yuri Plisetsky is terrible at feelings.

This is possibly the greatest understatement of the century.

He’s never felt particularly inclined to delve into the reasons why, but it’s impossible to deny Yuri’s tendency to replace any emotions that he finds uncomfortable with incandescent rage. It’s not especially healthy, but it’s always seemed to work for him, particularly in the world of competitive sport. It’s just unfortunate that the emotions he’s uncomfortable with add up to pretty much all of them.

He learned pretty young that, with his small frame and girlish looks, he couldn’t afford to show weakness - and emotion had always been Yuri’s greatest weakness. He had always felt things more keenly than most, and it became apparent very quickly that showing this led to nothing good.

When the bigger boys picked on him in the playground, he could either cry and have them bully him forever, or kick them in the balls and have them fear him. Needless to say, Yuri had chosen the latter. He’d been choosing the latter ever since. He’d rather have people think he was trouble than have them think he was weak.

A therapist had once theorised that it was his mother leaving him at such a young age that had left him with emotional scars, deep-seated issues with abandonment and rejection, and consequently his problems with anger. Yuri had, in turn, theorised that the therapist could go fuck himself.

Whatever the reason, Yuri has long accepted that he’s not good at feelings, and especially not good at vulnerability. Up until he’s fifteen, the only ones that get to see anything like a normal, healthy range of emotions from Yuri are his Grandpa, Potya, and the ice. Everyone else just has to try and figure out what emotion his anger is masking on a case by case basis.

And then one day, on a back street in Barcelona, Otabek roars into his life, whisking him away on a motorbike and asking him with admirable bluntness if Yuri is going to be his friend or not. Just like that, someone new cuts right through all of Yuri’s barriers and situates himself in the exclusive club that is Yuri’s inner circle. In a matter of days Otabek’s seen Yuri laugh, seen Yuri cry, and removed Yuri’s glove with his teeth in front of an audience of thousands.

Yuri wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Otabek somehow just seems to get him. He puts up with all of Yuri’s bullshit, sees through the rage to Yuri’s true feelings, and somehow knows exactly how to deal with the worst case of emotional constipation the world has ever seen. It’s pretty safe to say that, next to Yuri’s Grandpa, Otabek is the most important person in Yuri’s life.

Yuri still isn’t good at feelings. He’s not good at experiencing them, not good at differentiating them, not good at sharing them. With Otabek in his life, though, he is a bit better at not throwing things at people.

And then it all goes to shit.

 

* * *

 

In the two and a half years of their friendship, Yuri and Otabek have settled into a comfortable routine. When Yuri wakes up, there’s always a message waiting for him; sometimes a photo of something interesting that Otabek’s spotted on his morning run, sometimes a cat picture, sometimes just, _'Good morning. It’s meant to rain there today so don’t forget your umbrella.’_ Yuri always responds soon after, usually with a photo. Otabek’s phone must be full of photographs of Potya in various positions and a myriad of Yuri’s selfies.

Then, they both go about their days, messaging throughout when they get the chance. They talk about their training, talk about other skaters, talk about what’s happening in their day. Yuri sends a lot of selfies and cajoles a few out of Otabek too. Otabek sends music recommendations and cat pictures, just because he knows Yuri loves them. Yuri complains about Viktor. Otabek sends back sympathy and more cat pictures. It’s rare for either one of them to check their phone and not have a message waiting.

Most days they facetime in the evening, unless one of them has something else on. Sometimes they chat, sometimes they watch netflix or play games, and sometimes they just sit together in companionable silence whilst they get on with other things. Yuri finds it less lonely to cook dinner when he has Otabek on the other side of a screen, quietly working on his music or reading a book.

It’s a good routine. It reminds them both that they have each other right there, even with a couple of thousand miles between them.

They make an effort to see each other in person as well, when they can. Sometimes the competition schedule is kind to them, and they get to explore foreign cities together, cheer for each other on the ice, hole up in a hotel room and talk into the night. Sometimes the competition schedule is less kind, but they still manage to visit each other in the off-season for a long weekend or two. Yakov always agrees; Yuri is much more pleasant after seeing his best friend, and he trusts Otabek to make sure Yuri doesn’t slack whilst he’s away.

These are probably Yuri’s favourite times - days spent with his best friend without the stress of competition, just the two of them in a place where they can relax. It’s pretty perfect. They don’t get to do it enough.

 

* * *

 

Recently, Georgi has been going through a psychic phase. Not in that he’s especially more psychic than usual, but after one correct prediction about Mila’s latest conquest being a cheating douchebag he’s decided that he’s got The Gift, and the rink hasn’t heard the end of it. Some days he makes big predictions about life-changing events; some days he predicts who Yakov is going to shout at next. Today he had predicted that Viktor’s battle against hair loss was going to take a dramatic turn for the worse in the next few months, much to Viktor’s absolute horror and Yuri’s great amusement.

In none of these predictions, however, had Georgi mentioned that today was going to be the start of the shittiest year of Yuri’s life so far. Indeed, there was nothing about the day leading up to his fateful conversation with Otabek that clued Yuri in to the fact that anything was about to change in his life. He’d gone to the rink as normal, battled with his ever-growing limbs as normal, chatted with Mila, messaged with Otabek, laughed at Viktor's compulsive hair checking, and headed home for dinner with Potya as normal.

Honestly, he would’ve appreciated the heads up, no matter how sceptical he may be about Georgi’s supposed gifts, but no warning had ever come. Even his video chat with Otabek had gone as normal right up until the very end, when Otabek had chosen to ruin a perfectly enjoyable day.

“By the way,” Otabek had said, looking every bit as though he wasn’t about to drop a year-ruining bombshell out of absolutely nowhere, “Can we move tomorrow’s call a bit earlier? I have plans in the evening.”

“Yeah, sure,” Yuri had replied, attention half on Potya’s worryingly proficient attempts at breaking into his wardrobe, “Doing anything exciting?”

Otabek’s slight hesitation in answering is Yuri’s first clue that anything is up, particularly compounded with the fact that Otabek isn’t looking at the camera. Yuri would say he even looks nervous, which is out of character enough to have Yuri’s full attention, Potya’s attempts at breaking and entering be damned.

“I, um, kind of have a date,” Otabek says after a moment that almost certainly feels longer than it actually is.

Yuri wasn’t prepared for that. In these past few years as Otabek’s friend, Otabek has never shown any particular interest in anyone, and Yuri isn’t sure how he feels about this revelation. “Oh,” he responds dumbly, trying to ignore the gnawing sensation that’s taken up residence in his gut, “With anyone I know?”

“Oh, um, no. She goes to school with Arman. He set us up a few weeks ago. I’ve seen her a few times.”

Yuri feels sick. He also feels like throwing his phone at the wall and crying into Potya’s fur for reasons he can’t quite comprehend. Apparently, Otabek is in a relationship. Apparently, Otabek has decided to keep this information from Yuri for a matter of weeks.

It’s quite frankly a miracle that Yuri manages to keep his cool and continue the conversation; he’s not sure why, but he feels as though he might revert to his fifteen year old self and do something utterly stupid. “Oh. It’s serious then?”

Otabek shrugs, not looking like he’s enjoying this conversation an awful lot more than Yuri is, “Maybe,” he replies, fiddling with the sleeve of his hoodie, “It’s still early days.”

“That’s great, Otabek,” Yuri wants to find this girl and gouge her eyes out for even looking at his best friend. Yuri wants to rage for days. Yuri somehow manages to sound genuinely pleased for Otabek despite all of this.

It’s to Yuri’s great relief that Potya offers him a lifeline as her attempts to break into his wardrobe finally succeed, and he’s gifted the perfect opportunity to exit the conversation. “Shit, Potya’s got into the wardrobe. I have to go. Talk later!” Yuri launches himself off the bed and in the direction of his cat, hastily shutting down the video call as he goes and leaving Otabek no time to drop any other unwelcome bombshells.

It takes Yuri ten minutes and an impressive array of scratches to successfully retrieve Potya from the wardrobe. He barely even feels them as the gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach returns tenfold and a prickle of tears he can barely hold down returns with it. Yuri wants to shout and scream and rage, and he doesn’t have to save face in front of his best friend anymore, so he does just that. His phone is the first thing to go, flung against the wall with a satisfying crack as the screen shatters. Next is the framed photo of him and Otabek that lives on his bedside table. Next is the bedside table itself.

Potya has the good sense to make herself scarce until the rage settles, only stalking back into the room when Yuri’s curled up in his bed with a tear-streaked face. She gives one cheek a sandpapery lick before curling up next to him, content to sit with her human for as long as he needs.

Otabek’s found someone.

Otabek’s found someone, and it isn’t him.

Yuri isn’t precisely sure why that fact bothers him so much. Otabek is his friend. His best friend. His best friend who is there for him whenever he needs. His best friend who he talks to every day. His best friend who he cares for more than almost anyone else.

Otabek’s the person he goes to when he’s had a bad day, a good day, anything in between. The person who makes him feel happy and safe. The person who will do anything on a whim just because Yuri says he wants to. Otabek’s the person who holds Yuri’s hand in a crowd to make sure they don’t get separated, who holds his hair back when he vomits back up an ill advised quantity of alcohol, who holds him when he needs it and sometimes when he doesn’t.

Shit.

Yuri Plisetsky is terrible at feelings. As it turns out, the one thing he’s even worse at is realising when he has them for someone else.


End file.
